Hotstepper
by yazawapda
Summary: Otoya has little faith in Haruki and her flirting skills. Haruki is a giant lesbian and loves to prove people wrong. Mahiru just wanted to do her laundry.


"Really though," Otoya mutters from her spot on the table, watching as Haruki haphazardly throws her wet clothes into one of the empty driers. "You can't flirt for shit."

Haruki tries to ignore the fact that Otoya is filing her nails with a pair of scissors as she hops onto the table next to her, bumping shoulders to try and make her move over.

"You're just jealous," she says, crossing her arms. Otoya snorts, finally dropping the pair of scissors and holding her hand up to the light so she can examine her nails.

"What do I have to be jealous of, Sagae?" Haruki pouts and Otoya snickers again.

Haruki is clearly offended by Otoya's lack of faith in her- as she likes to believe- absolutely amazing flirting skills, and can already feel a surge of competitiveness coming on. "Well for one, you can't even make a move on Shiena. You know, actual baby seal Shiena, voted second purest in the cinnamon roll trifecta."

Otoya's face flushes, and she squares her shoulders slightly, falling hook line and sinker for whatever trap Haruki is trying to pull. "So what?" she huffs, rather indignantly, and elbows the girl in the side. "You can barely make a dent in 'please shower me with attention' Inukai!"

Okay, so this is how it's going to be. Jabs at their ridiculous crushes that they'd told each other in an attempt to bond. And it had worked, until now, when both of their gay asses were rising on the defensive and someone had to say something to show Isuke and Shiena weren't controlling their every waking thought.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs catches Haruki's attention, and a grin splits across her face. "I bet you thirty bucks I can woo the fuck out of the next person to walk through that door," she says, nodding towards the entrance. Otoya practically growls her response.

"You're _on_."

Haruki realizes that luck is definitely on her side tonight, as none other than Mahiru Banba shuffles into the room, one of the other two members of the aforementioned cinnamon roll trio. Otoya seems none too pleased at this, but gestures towards the girl with a roll of her eyes. "Go on," she grumbles, "work your magic."

Haruki _grins_ , hopping off the table, dusting off her skirt, and taking a deep breath. Mahiru is easily flustered no matter who's flirting with her, whether it's Sumireko's incredibly obvious advances or just Kouko offering her help with heavy lifting. A couple smooth lines and a charming smile should easily do the trick.

However, the closer she gets to her intended target, the more nervous she finds herself feeling. She's about to taint pure, innocent little Banba and possibly incur the wrath of Sumireko. But, she is also about to win thirty dollars off Takechi. Spurred on the promise of money and thought of annoying the shit out of Otoya, Haruki makes her decision.

"Mahiru," she calls, putting on her best smile. Banba quickly rises from her place in front of the washing machine, humming nervously in acknowledgement. Haruki slams her hand against the wall above Banba's shoulder, leaning in and using her free hand to tilt the girl's face up.

"Your lips look lonely," she hums, "would they like to meet mine?"

Mahiru flushes at least six shades of red, her eyes going wide and her bushy eyebrows shooting up. Her lips tremble as she tries to stammer out a response, and Haruki almost finds herself blushing, because Mahiru's deer-in-headlights look is kind of adorable?

"You know, you must be some kind of thief," the redhead continues, her smile only growing when Mahiru manages to stutter a reply.

"Th-Thief?" she all but whimpers, still staring at Haruki like she's an angel.

"Yeah, because you've stolen my heart."

Haruki can practically hear Otoya rolling her eyes, but the way Mahiru moves to cover her face with her hands is worth it. "Oh- oh my," the smaller girl squeaks, "I- uh- S-Sagae."

And shit, Haruki nearly _melts_ because her name sounds hilariously good coming from Mahiru's mouth. And suddenly, she gets the absolutely terrible mental image of Banba wearing one of her oversized hoodies; it covering her down to the knees, the fabric practically burying her, Mahiru sleepily rubbing her eyes with her tiny hands hidden in the sleeves. Good _god._

Haruki feels the impulse control leaving her all at once. Slowly, she moves her hand to trace down the scar on Mahiru's face, gaining the girl's attention. "Hey," she murmurs, smile replaced with a questioning expression. "How about I come up to your room later, we can watch a movie."

Banba stares for a few seconds before blushing again and nodding vigorously, refusing to meet Haruki's eyes. She quickly ducks under the girl's arm and dashes back upstairs, completely forgetting about her laundry.

"Wow," Otoya pipes up from the corner, clapping. "Wow."

Realization hits Haruki like a train. A big, gay train. "Update," she says, turning on her heels and pulling some pocky from her jacket pocket. "I'm much gayer than I anticipated."


End file.
